


An Old Toy, a New Hope

by firecat



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Lightsabers, Star Wars original trilogy - Freeform, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:15:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25300717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firecat/pseuds/firecat
Summary: Jane Foster is decluttering and pining for Thor. She comes across a thing that's full of memories.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: Froday Flash Fiction Little & Monthly Specials 2020





	An Old Toy, a New Hope

**Author's Note:**

> FFFC 100th Special Challenge  
> Table D: Fairytale/Fantasy/SciFi  
> Written for the prompt: 13) lightsaber

The lightsaber toy was cheap and plastic, and it ate batteries, but to five-year-old Jane, who received it as a much-begged-for birthday present, it was pure magic. She could leap and thrust and parry just like Luke Skywalker. She could feel the Force, use the Force to defeat the power of Darth Vader. 

Six-year-old Jane would point the lightsaber at the night sky over New Mexico and trace the constellations, naming each and the stars that comprised them, as her grandmother had taught her. She would dream of what creatures might live on the planets orbiting them. 

Seven-year-old Jane, newly introduced to the concept of wormholes, would imagine the skies ripping open and disgorging Imperial battle troops, which she would vanquish, wielding the lightsaber as she led her army of loyal Rebels into the fray.

Twenty-something Jane Foster, astrophysicist, had the distinction of making first contact with an extraterrestrial race of humanoids (by hitting one of them with her truck). She subsequently suffered the more ordinary experience of romantic loss, said extraterrestrial having left to save his home planet and failed to come back as he promised. 

Jane sat in the attic, staring at the toy she’d unearthed in a box from her childhood home.

She picked it up and tried to turn it on. Nothing happened. No doubt its batteries were dead and corroded, the acid eating away at the circuits inside that once allowed the toy to flash different colors and make a buzzing, humming sound when swept through the air. 

She took the broken toy to the grimy window and shook it at the sky, across which the Milky Way was spattered.

“Do, or do not, Thor Odinson. There is no ‘try’.”


End file.
